Pleasantly Frustrated
by Skandranon
Summary: Sequal to Pleasantly Depressed, Irvine and Squall must now face the horrors of a relationship. Also, fight a war, save the world, get injured a lot.
1. Snow at Night

Pleasantly Frustrated

By Skandranon

Warnings : Irvine/Squall, rated R for graphic content (violence, language, sexual scenes)

Summary : Sequal to Pleasantly Depressed, Irvine and Squall are now a couple, and must now face the horrors of a relationship. Also, they fight a war, save the world, and get many owies.

* * *

Chapter One – "Snow at Night"

* * *

By the time he got around to addressing his appetite, his breakfast was stone cold, and he was too hungry to care. He gnawed through a rock biscuit absently as he reviewed the figures, quotes, quotas, statements, summaries, and other numbers that made up "the books", paying only enough attention to keep from getting crumbs on the paperwork.

Spending reviews could go death themselves, he groused, and continued filling out the spreadsheets anyway. Because that's what a Commander did, and if he'd known that when he signed up, he would've bolted for the nearest escape hatch.

Irvine had the arrogance to snore away, blissful and loud even from across the room like a woodcarver's buzzsaw. Six months now, and that snore still grated on his nerves. It was oh two thirty in the morning, but that was no excuse. Stupid sniper.

His ankle stung with a sharp bite, and he sighed. "Not now, I'm busy."

"Yrr yrr neao! Na geyouwdr!"

"Should've thought about that before you went to bed. I'll take you out soon as I finish this catalog."

"Hanoo sdaas?"

"Another hour or two."

Grrface flopped about on his foot, kicking its legs stubbornly. "Knya vaydr!"

Squall sighed, rubbed his forehead, forgot he had a pen in his hand and stabbed his cheek. Cursing, he flung it across the room to thunk against the window, then groaned and picked up another from his pen cup.

"Knya VAYDR!"

"I'm busy! Go in the bathroom or something!"

The moomba stilled to contemplate this new concept, then bounced into the bathroom.

The warm presence a few feet away rolled languishly. "Ain't cleaning f'he does," Irvine mumbled through the pillow.

Squall glared at how warm the bed looked, and tucked his cold ankles closer to the heating vent.

It was January, and that meant Festivus parties, consistent snow, and End of Year Review. Most of the SeeDs and students got to enjoy light workloads and snowball fights, and he got to enjoy two metric tons of papers that needed to be filled out, signed, copied, scanned, catalogued, and then came the fun part. Meeting with the budget analysts. Hyne he hated those two simpering little... civilians.

Though the window was frosted over, he was fairly sure it was snowing. He couldn't see any stars. He could barely see the ocean below, and the Estharian coastline off in the distance. Everyone and anybody were sound asleep. There weren't more than six lights on in the building. One of those would be Quistis', the workaholic. Another would be Zell, who never learned the meaning of the words "for Hyne's sake put down that joystick and go to bed you idiot". One might be Cid, since he did get insomnia often, and was prone to pacing in his office.

The sound of a splash echoed from the bathroom.

"You better not've done what I think you just did," Squall groaned.

"Arpa!" Came the cry from the bathroom, and the distinctive noise of a diminuitive feline trying to wiggle its way back out of a toilet. "Skoru! Arpa! Strkk strk!"

"Toldya," Irvine murmered, and started snoring again.

"Told me nothing, stupid rube." Squall whapped him with a pillow on his way past. "Burn the living… what've you gotten yourself into now?"

"Arpa! Gnyoudr!" A soaked Grrface wriggled on the inside of the toilet, and tried leaping to snag the seat, but couldn't get a claw hold, and ended up slipping back into the water. "Yik yik!"

"No kidding. You're lucky I cleaned that just yesterday." Pulling up his sleeve, he scooped up the damp fluffball and deposited him in the sink. "Did you go?"

"Nyedr."

"One or two?"

"Yen yen."

"Go in the sink." Squall turned on the faucet and ran his hands through it for a quick cleaning. Ignoring the spluttering critter stuck under the tap, he stumbled his way back to his desk.

It was only as he reached for another pen that he realized he was dripping on the vehicle inventory list.

"Fisting charred sonova bitchgrat!"

"Grats're asexual," Irvine muttered.

"Shut up you. Go back to sleep."

"Am asleep."

"Prove it."

He got a snore as his response.

He really hated that snore.

Grrface scampered into the room and dove straight for the towel bin in the closet, leaving wet carpet in his wake. Squall snapped his fingers to get the moomba's attention. "Toss me one of those."

The awkward toss landed the towel right in the middle of his receipt pile, scattering them across the desk, the floor, and in the trashcan.

"Sonova fuckfaced Centran saltfarmer."

"Shree shree."

"Sure you are you little demon. Go take a nap."

The orange critter shimmied its way up the edge of the bed and decided to nestle against the cowboy's shoulderblade, yawned cutely, and curled in to snuggle. Seconds later the cowboy was sitting up and had Grrface snagged by the scruff, dangling in midair. He squinted through bleary eyes at his lover. "Why is little bit soaking wet?"

"You don't want to know. Trust me."

"What…" yawn, "...time is it?"

"Two thirty in the morn- three in the morning."

Irvine slid his lean legs across the bed, kicking aside the cover, and shifted nearer to Squall. "You're working at three in the morning… why?"

"Couldn't sleep. Enough with the questions."

Irvine held up his fingers. "Two more, and I think they're related. Why is your shirt wet, and why-"

The Garden "oh shit we're under attack" alarm cut him off, deafening them both and sending the furball wriggling out of the cowboy's grasp to bolt under the covers.

"-IS THE BATHROOM FAUCET ON?" Irvine finished, already leaping towards the closet to grab his weaponry. He was speaking to air, as Squall was barreling down the hall, gunblade in hand.

He passed Selphie and a cluster of other students as he ran, weary and confused, but all armed. "Battle stations!" he hollered, not slowing. Selphie reacted fastest, ducking back into her room to drag a half-awake but also armed Raijin to his post.

The lights had cut on with the alarm, full voltage, but now they cut back out as the building shook with an impact, just as he entered the main hall. He kept going towards the elevator, trusting on the backup generators. He was vindicated a moment later when the lights flickered back on, but noticeably dimmer, and wavering. Smarter SeeDs in the hall had already pulled out flarebulbs and pocket lighters, and he snagged one from a younger cadet as he ducked into the elevator.

Then he realized that, thanks to budget cuts, the elevators didn't work on the backup generator.

"Fisting brightburnt…" he slammed a hand against the black panel, then hopped to grab the ceiling hatch. And remembered it had been fused shut last August after the infamous Prank War, part two. "Freaking fucker frickin'-"

A hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him out into the hall, sending his adrenaline reeling. He only kept from swinging his gunblade out of instinct because he recognized Irvine's glove.

"You have got to cut down on the cussing, Commander."

"I get it from you," he snarled.

"C'mon, this way." The gunner turned away and vaulted a bench to land in the central fountain of the atrium, clambered onto one of the fish fountains, and pulled himself up into the decorative framework that surrounded the main elevator shaft. "C'mon!" he called over his shoulder, through the gunstrap held in his teeth.

"It's always something," Squall groused, bounding through the kneedeep water. At least it was chlorinated.

* * *

He estimated another minute and a half before he could get to his post, a nicely situated indoor/outdoor terrace near the top of the Garden, from which he'd have a lovely sniping view of most of the grounds. How convenient that Squall's post, the command deck, was along his way. He'd get to drop off his boyfriend. Should've packed him a sack lunch.

Of course, gravity taking a field day could delay him a bit. Was the room actually tilting?

The building rocked with an explosion, and shuddered. The ledge pulled away under him, until the angle was so severe that he lost his footing, clinging to the latticework with his hands.

Once the floor and ceiling of the main hall was became walls and he was dangling from the "bottom" of the horizontal elevator shaft, he decided that yes, the room was tilting. Off to his left, Squall was stuck crouched on the back of a fountain like a grumpy, scraggly gargoyle, peering down into what had inexplicably become a thirty foot drop.

"You alright?"

Squall flashed the "All clear" hand signal, but didn't look too pleased with his predicament.

Irvine noticed with a little bemusement that the fountain was empty, all the water having rushed down the floor and into the library hall below. Poor Ms. Miram was in for a treat.

That made him glance down. _Oh dear Hyne long drop. Focus, focus_. Most of the SeeD had slid down the floor to the far wall when the gravity had been shifted, but some were clinging to railings, fern pots, benches, and trashcans, all of which were thankfully bolted down. At the very bottom he spotted Xu trying to goad nearby officers into some sort of action.

"I'd say 'battle stations' wouldn't quite work like this," he called down, but she couldn't hear him within the din of sirens and groaning of engines and grating metal. Squall heard him, and flashed the "plan B" signal.

Irvine let go with one hand long enough to flash back the "there is no plan B, idjit" signal, and breathed slowly to rein in his shivvering. This was no time to panic mother of his mother long drop._ Focus, focus, breathe. Heights bad. Breathe_. If the enemy - whoever they were - entered the Garden, they'd probably have as much trouble with the surreal angle as the SeeDs would. His role was to get somewhere high and snipe, and as locations went, the "top" of the elevator shaft might be considered nicely high right now, at least until he could figure out how to scale the hall to the cafeteria. The sculpting went all the way around the elevator shaft, so he could probably haul himself up to the other side.

Except life decided to give him the fingers, and he felt the iron latticework, sturdy but never meant to hold loads, strain under his weight in a manner that suggested that it wouldn't be putting up with his annoyance too much longer.

"Whoo boy," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut as the stark terror shot through him. _Focus, focus_. He scanned the sculpting above him. There, just to his left was another section of latticework. If he could shift half his weight to it, he should be fine. Flexing his arm muscles, he twisted his body up and towards the left, delicately careful to keep his movements fluid and measured.

Nope, said life, I already gave you the fingers, so it'd be awkward to let things work out alright, and the lattice twisted downwards with a screech. The movement threw off his balance and he abrubtly found himself holding on to nothing whatsoever, and the floor, er, wall, was coming at him rather fast.

Thirty feet is not much time for a great deal of freaking out, but Irvine got in his fair share.

_Float!_

The spell wrapped around him in wafty chill ripples, and he touched down next to Xu, throwing her a plaster grin to cover his trembling.

"Showoff," she grumbled.

"Always," he smirked, shuddered, and glanced up at Squall, who was shouting something he couldn't hear, and flashing the international "you fucking idiot" signal. He waved back and got a return scowl.

Shots smashed the windows in the floor nearby. He dropped to all fours, fumbled in his pockets, and lobbed a grenade through the broken plastiglass. Damn, if they could break the triple pane stuff that easily, they must be sporting hand cannons.

Squall landed beside him with a fierce thud, a Protect crackling as it absorbed the impact. He hefted his blade and leapt, following the grenade out the window, fading into the smoke.

The garden tilted back again like a seesaw, and Irvine slid the four feet to the new floor, the real floor. So did the rest of the students next to him, and all the loose furniture. Xu landed on his shoulders with her breasts in his face. She was nicely small; her uniform didn't do them justice.

He pushed her off, and blinked owlishly at Seifer.

Seifer blinked owlishly back at him.

Seifer was wearing a Centran uniform.

Seifer shot him with a tranq gun.


	2. Surf at Dawn

Pleasantly Frustrated – Ch 2 – "Surf at Dawn"

* * *

He cast the Float as he leapt through the window, and landed with his boots dabbing the ocean surface. Behind and above him, the Garden righted itself, but was losing altitude. The stabilizer ring had a chunk taken out of it and was wobbling as more shots impacted along its framework. 

They were trying to get it to crash into the ocean. That didn't make sense though; Garden could sail as well as it flew.

He was brought out of his pondering by a speedboat charging at him, bouncing along the waves with intense speed. He froze it in place with a Stop just as it reached him, hopped on board, cast a Dispel on himself and the boat, and clung to its railing as it lurched back into motion.

He was never going to get tired of that. The only good thing to come from a complete psychotic breakdown and having a GF permanently fused to his soul was that casting magic didn't seem to require spells anymore. Nor did it give him spellburn, just a mild, almost pleasant tingling. An endless supply of power came in quite handy, and every day he was finding more ways of making it count.

And Irvine. Two good things.

He took out the captain and the gunner, then powered down the motor.

They were wearing black, no marks or insignia anywhere. The boat had none either, and was the type any civilian could buy. So whoever was attacking, didn't want Garden to recognize them.

He wasn't alone on the water. A handful of similar speedboats circled underneath the Garden, like fastitocalon circling a dying leviathan, with the gunners making ample use of their machinery. And far off in the distance, much larger battleships were closing in.

So that was it. The enemy didn't have a large air fleet – few armies did, really – so they were crippling B-Garden to give their sea fleet a shot at it.

He snagged the radio and flipped it to SeeD frequency. "Leon calling any, come in."

A crackle, then Quistis' voice. "This is Lazuli, I read you Leon."

"Large ocean fleet coming in from the northeast, they're planning to force land Garden to take it. See if you can pilot towards the coastline."

A pause. "Read you on the info, but that's a negative. We have lost all navigation."

Bugger. "Power down the ring, then, see if you can't land faster. Give you time to maneuver before they arrive."

Another pause. "Leon, when I said all navigation, I meant all. We're locked out of the system. Think it's sabotage."

He kicked the unconscious captain in spite. "Do it manual then."

"We read, Leon. What's your position?"

"Outside, I've 'propriated a boat." And the enemy had noticed him finally, and another craft was speeding towards him with guns aimed. He started up the motor, ready to dodge.

"See if you can't do some damage to the fleet. We'll handle this end."

"I read, over." He spun the driving wheel thing around, momentarily grateful for the one time Nida had let him pilot the Garden, and thrust the nearest pedal forward.

Shit, that was reverse. Try the next one.

Speedboats can go sideways? Third pedal. Ah, there's forward.

The boat tilted under the burst of speed, and one of the bodies slid off the deck into the water, but he was too busy worrying about the guns pointed in his direct- was that a mortar? They had a _mortar_ on a speedboat?

Above him, Garden rumbled under more explosions, then tipped precariously to one side. He glanced up as he drove under it, and caught a flash of red and orange growing larger, directly overhead. It sort of looked like a…_oh Hyne no_.

The T-rexaur crashed into the water just off to one side, smacking the boat against waves as it whined and kicked spastically, not at all pleased to suddenly be swimming. Such massive creatures were never meant to brave the ocean, however, and soon the beast sank out of view.

_Please tell me it's not about to start raining grats like in the song._

_Well darn it Squall, now I'm going to have the tune stuck in my head all day._

Ahead, the fleet spread itself into a crescent formation, the biggest and baddest at the middle and back. So, they were planning to "net" Garden. Not on his watch.

The hardest hitter he recognized. _Catoblepas II_, once pride of the Galbadian navy. Pre-dreadnought battleship, two 12 inch forward guns and who knows what else. It'd been out of commission for decades now, and clearly must've been snatched up by a private buyer. Old fashioned, nearly obsolete, but in the hands of the right crew it could be a nasty threat.

He revved the speedboat to full power and charged the larger ship. He was a threat too, dammit, and they would learn it the deadly way.

The radio crackled, but he couldn't hear the garbled words. They were jamming communication.

The battleship came on, slow, ponderous, fifteen thousand tons of displacement staring him down. Its guns fired once, but not at him. Crew in black scurried on its decks.

As he sped into the middle of the fleet, the battle broke behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and watched Garden's rings split down the middle. The mighty hulk of his home broke the water like an avalanche.

"C'mon, c'mon…" he muttered, gritting his teeth. "Get out before the hanger floods…"

The fleet opened guns together. The parts of Garden that showed above the surface took a barrage along its hull. He could faintly spot windows smashing.

"C'mon…"

On the far side, B-Garden's garage hull split open, and the Ragnarok growled its way loose. It twisted in a tailspin as a stray shot smacked its fins, but it righted and roared over the waves, toward the cliffs and away from the battle. Kramers and civilians, retreating to safety.

"Yes!" He turned back to concentrate on his own battle, to find himself being loomed over by the far too close _Catoblepas II_. "Shit!" He yanked the wheel and dodged around the bow, skimming precariously close to the side of the greater ship.

_Shiva, sic 'em._

_Yes oh captain my captain._ He gripped the wheel tight as ice and power ripped through him, dizzy and delirious, stinging and aching but somehow exhilarating. It ached in him until he was sure his very bones had frozen in place and would crack any second. And he'd thought magic was intense _before_ he'd been semi-fused to a deity; lately the volume had forgone speakers and wired him directly into the amperage. It was all he could do to aim an arm for the side of the battleship and watch the raw, maddening blizzard hammer into the metal, freeze it solid, and tear it into shattered shrapnel like it was no more than a chicobo's chew toy. The ocean was only too happy to flood the new gaping wound. Sirens blared as the hull integrity failed.

Blood and garters, it was _fun_ to be a force of nature.

Then a stray bullet pinged the engine and tumbled him into the water.

* * *

"I think I'm getting loose." 

"No you're not."

"Seriously." Irvine wriggled to demonstrate. "You better come over here and check my ropes before I get free."

"You're just going to bite me again."

"No really, if I get free, first thing I do is invert your kneecaps. You really want to take the risk?"

"If you were really getting free, you wouldn't tell me."

"Or maybe I'd tell you so you'd think I'm bluffing, and then you'd ignore me while I worked loose."

Seifer rolled his eyes, and pointedly blocked view of his face with his magazine. Dollet Real Estate Review, last year's edition.

"What, big tough knight afraid of the poor li'l sniper?"

Seifer loudly turned a page. Apparently he found dry wall fascinating.

Scowling, Irvine swayed side to side, feeling the chair's supports shift under him. Maybe he could rock free if Seifer stayed disinterested. And then bludgeon the bastard to fainting, and then figure out where on the sphere they were, and find the owners manual and driving directions for this century old fisherman's dingy or whatever kind of rotted, oilstained pitiful scrapheap it was Seifer had him currently sequestered in. He couldn't even tell what color the furniture had originally been. Mold, rust, and water stains reined the small cupboard of a dining galley. He could feel weakness in the joints of his chair, fanning a spark of hope. If he could just get them to break...

"If you fall over, check under the couch and see if you can spot a comb."

"You're not going to do the big bad guy plot revelation, are you."

"To do so would require me to be a big bad." Page turn. "I'm retired."

"Just doing small time freelancing evil nowadays?" Rock rock.

"Trying my hand at the do-gooder stuff, actually. Don't like it so far, too restricting." Page turn. "I have a Sleep spell cocked and ready, you realize. Stop rocking or I'll let you dream the rest of the ride."

"Where're we headed, anyways?"

"Away."

"Away."

"Yep." Page turn.

"Away from the ruthless armada that butchered Garden that you insist you know absolutely nothing about."

"Yep." Page turn.

His ankle itched. "Could I maybe have some water?"

"Nope."

"Booze?"

"Nope."

"I'd settle for a cigarette and a lapdance."

"Fresh out."

"Oh come on, Seif, we're buds."

Seifer finally spared him a glower. "This is the first time we've said words to each other since we were tots. Last time I saw you, you were aiming your rifle for my nethers. Buds, we ain't. I haven't dumped you overboard yet because, against all sanity, Squall seems to like you. Hyne knows why."

"It's the hat."

"Yeah? Gimme that."

"Hey!" Irvine bucked and twisted, but could only sulk as Seifer plucked his hat and tried it on.

"Your head's bigger than mine."

"You've got it on backwards. Don't tug the rim like that, you'll stretch it. Give 'er back."

"Nah, think I'll keep it."

"Bastard. Don't you hurt my baby."

The blond smirked and flicked the tip of the hat smugly. "She looks good on me. Might as well make some use of hauling your twopenny hide to safe shores. Now there's an idea, you might be worth mugging. Dunno why I didn't do it sooner." He scooted forward to crouch at Irvine's side, patting him down and snatching up any objects he located.

"Hey, don't take that, I need that. Don't you drink that, that's my last one. Hey! There's nothing in that pock- hands off the ass! OFF the ass!"

Seifer pocketed his remaining cigarettes and worked his way towards the belt line. "Must be losing my touch. Cleaned you of weapons, but didn't figure to check for goods. Serves me right for retiring."

"There's nothing in THAT pocket either, so don't you dare."

"Hush up, captive." Seifer shucked him of his coat and popped a button on his vest, then froze, staring at his chest. A very peculiar expression settled on his face.

Irvine glanced down, curious.

Smack dab in the middle of his chest hung Griever, silver and gleaming against his tan.

"Oh, yeah. About that."

Seifer snarled and grabbed the chain, hauling Irvine up by it. "Something you want to tell me, cowboy? Something about you and Squall?"

He held his voice until the biting of the metal threatened to strangle him. "He… thinks I'm nutritious and delicious?"

If Seifer kept making that expression, his face would surely stick that way. "Yeargh! Not a visual I wanted! Stupid horndog!"

"Serves you right, kidnapper!"

Seifer dropped him. "I didn't kidnap you. I rescued you, and you could be a little more grateful. Still, visual! Dammit, Irv!"

Irvine shimmied his chair back and forth, scuffing up the floor. "Don't you Irv me. Soon as I get loose I'm gonna drop your ass back to kindercare. They'll be using your remains for carbon dating. You bruised my neck, brute."

Seifer leaned on the gunner's arms, forcing him still. "Stop. I didn't kidnap you. I didn't even want you. I was looking for Squall."

"You invaded Garden just to kidnap to Squall?"

"I didn't invade Garden, and I wasn't going to kidnap Squall, and I didn't kidnap you."

"Oh yeah? Then why am I tied up?"

"Because you bit me!"

"Well what was I supposed to do? You put my gun way over there. And why are you mugging me?"

"I'm still going with because you bit me!"

"And why did you invade Garden?"

"I didn't!"

"Then why did you conveniently show up at the same time as a whole bunch of other guys who 'weren't invading Garden'? You really want Squall's ass that badly?"

Seifer backhanded him.

"Ow."

"They were invading. I wasn't. I wanted to get Squall out before they took Garden down."

"You have such a high opinion of our defensive skills."

"Yes, actually." Snorting, Seifer slouched back in his chair. "I fought you, remember? And I fought with these guys. I don't know their plan, but I know how big it is. I don't know who's backing them, but I know how high up the political ladder it goes. Balamb Garden was the world's deadliest fighting force. Yesterday. Right now… I doubt there's even scrap metal left."

"And Squall? The guy you're so insistent about buggerin– sorry, rescuing?"

Seifer shrugged.

"Well, he punched your ticket, I'm sure he's dandy."

"Yeah, about you and Squall."

Irvine hung his head, groaning. "Thought we were past that theme."

"So what, you two are humping?"

"And they say I'm crude."

"Answer the question and I give your hat back."

"Yes, we're humping."

"Who's on top?"

"D'you know, I never liked you as a kid. You were a twit."

Seifer tossed his hat, smacking him in the face. It landed in his lap, and he stopped rocking to keep from dislodging it.

"So, you and Squall."

"Yes, me and Squall. Squall and me. Squall and I. With the humping."

Seifer made a face, but his arms hugging his waist wasn't a gesture of distaste. "How does that work, anyway?"

"Patience and lubricant."

The blond shot him a scathing look. "You know what I mean. You two don't seem that compatible."

"You mean, how does a head case like the Commander and a slut like yours truly find happiness in this bleak, Hyne forsaken world?"

"Something like that, but without the prose."

Irvine sighed, and gnawed at the corner of his lips. "Damned if I know. Doesn't, mostly. I love him." It was getting easier to say that, but it was still hard to mean it. "That doesn't mean I like him. Mostly he drives me batty. I'd die for him, but half the time I'd rather just kill him."

"Know the feeling."

"So! On to cheerier subjects. Who's trying to take over the world this time?"

"Nothing so lofty. They're just trying to take over Garden, mainly."

"Lemme guess, they don't like our extradition policies."

"They don't like you, really." Suddenly, Seifer slammed his hand on the table. The wood splintered. His face didn't change, though. "You're not taking this seriously."

Irvine quirked an eyebrow. "You make it difficult."

"Take it seriously."

"Loud bangings and threatening tones indeed help me take it more seriously."

"You know, I never liked you either. I'll wake you when we get to Esther."

"Esthe-?" The Sleep wrecked his balance, and he went crashing to the floor, his hat rolling off towards a corner.

There was a comb under the couch, but he didn't get the chance to say so.

* * *

Author's Comment : _Catoblepas II_ is based on the Japanese _Mikasa_. 


End file.
